I need to better appreciate the humor in the unexpected. Particularly if it has to do with bodily fluids.
First clue. You can never put “Teagan” and “subdued” in the same sentence. It’s an oxymoron.
As the evening wore on, moans and groans began to issue forth from him as if they were being wrenched from his very bowels. (Which turned out to be the case.) He was in great discomfort. I truly pitied him.
Till he got to the door of my bedroom and vomited all over the carpet. Walked a few paces and did it again.
I’m a fairly reasonable person. I typically put more stock in people than things. As Teagan retched, I hurt for him. He doesn’t remember the last time he was sick and had no clue what to do. The shock of his stomach trying to mutiny was enough to freeze him in place.
Till I cleaned it up. Bile does things to carpet that make restoration rather difficult.
It’s old carpet. It’s been peed on, puked on, pooped on. (That’s what happens when you fill the house with kids and animals.) The residue. The stains. That funky smell that lingers until you replace it with vinegar.
I’d been fine with our carpet. I knew it was only a matter of time till we replaced it. But with another wedding coming up, I wasn’t going to hold my breath.
But this? This was the last straw. My camel’s back broke.
I want new floors.
I don’t want to obsess about this. I don’t want to focus on what I don’t have.
But I am.
Good grief. It’s a floor. I need to get over it. This isn’t the end of the world. Nor is it the end of life as I know it.
But it kind of feels that way, you know? I want what I want. Now.
My Dad would have had a hey day with this. One of his favorite sayings was, “I was mad that I had no shoes till I saw the man that had no feet.” Having grown up during the Depression, he was always reminding us that we had a lot to be thankful for. That whining about what we didn’t have accomplished nothing but discontentment. And discontentment always grew into really ugly attitudes.
He was right. I don’t want to get stuck on what I don’t have. Can’t have. Can’t do. That traps me in a dark place in my heart.
The apostle Paul got it.
“I know how to live on almost nothing or with everything. I have learned the secret of living in every situation, whether it is with a full stomach or empty, with plenty or little. For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.
I’m amazed at how insignificant things can derail me. Enough really is enough. In Jesus, I’ve got all I need.
Really. It’s only a floor.
First photo courtesy of openclipart.org.
Second photo courtesy of flickr.com.